


Cold as Ice

by LadyDisdayne



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Frozen (Disney Movies) Fusion, Anakin is Obi-Wan's biological brother, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Prince Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Force Is Weird (Star Wars), Unrequited Love, but ONLY as a political thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDisdayne/pseuds/LadyDisdayne
Summary: There was only one thing Obi-Wan truly wanted in his life, and that was to become a Jedi.Except, that wasn’t entirely true. He also wouldn’t mind if his Master would kiss him senseless.Too bad the Force had other plans.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32
Collections: Backwards QuiObi Bang





	Cold as Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grapemartini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapemartini/gifts).



> This is a (loose) Frozen AU inspired by GrapeMartini’s beautiful art. Their tumblr can be found [HERE](https://grapemartini.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Thank you Chibi and Cat for the betas.

There was only one thing Obi-Wan truly wanted in his life, and that was to become a Jedi Knight. He had fought hard for his place among the Jedi, even after being assigned to the AgraCorps at thirteen. He had done everything he could to be the perfect Padawan, to grow and learn and become the ideal student for Qui-Gon. 

Except, that wasn’t _entirely_ true. He also wouldn’t mind if his Master would kiss him senseless. 

But, as was usual in Obi-Wan’s life, the Force had other plans. 

He had hoped his destiny would be forgotten after twenty-two years, and that his home planet of Arendelle would have figured out their lives and leave him well enough alone. The least they could have done was get over their archaic ideas of adulthood and maturity. 

But they hadn’t and here he was, on a planet he had never known, on his way to meet a half-brother he had never even heard of, watching the trees as they zoomed past their shuttle. Qui-Gon’s face was an impenetrable mask of stone, but through their training bond Obi-Wan could feel the hurt and betrayal bubbling underneath. It was Obi-Wan’s fault for keeping his past, and his unwanted future, from his Master. He had been given plenty of opportunities to tell the truth, but had been too afraid every time. 

After Bandomeer, he had been so desperate to be taken on as a Padawan that the lie of omission had seemed the wisest course. Obi-Wan had known almost from the beginning what had happened between Qui-Gon and Xanatos and did not want his own complicated family history to interfere with the possibility of being Qui-Gon’s apprentice. 

Obi-Wan was the only full-blooded child of the late King Agnarr and Queen Iduna, the only direct heir to a throne that no longer mattered. The people and monarchy had agreed twenty-two years ago that they would join the republic and move to a democratic parliamentary system to govern their planet.

To make the transition to their new government, the Jedi negotiators and royalty had chosen the most convoluted path Obi-Wan had ever heard of. Instead of his father simply giving up the throne, they decided to send his _very_ Force Sensitive, three year old heir off world to live with the Jedi and let him be raised as one of their own. The idea was, according to Master Yoda, that Obi-Wan would never have the desire to actually claim his right to the throne. 

That part of their plan had worked. Too well. 

Obi-Wan had never been resentful of his parents and their choice to send him away, taking to life as a Jedi like a fish to water. He had known that once his father passed on, hopefully long after he became a knight and maybe even a master, that he was to return to Arendelle and claim his right to the throne, only to turn power over to the new officials and parliament that would be voted in by the people. 

After he received news of his mother’s death and, a few years later, his father’s scandalous affair with one of the palace servants, Shmi Skywalker, Obi-Wan had hoped that the half-baked treaty would be dissolved in favor of simply letting the parliament rule and he would be freed. 

Instead, Agnarr had tragically died in a _boating_ accident, moving up the transition’s timeline and leaving his illegitimate nine year old son Anakin as the only royal left alive and the government in a state of limbo until Obi-Wan could arrive. 

The transition was a progressive step forward for a planet that still believed that to be a legal adult you had to be _married_ , and in the case of the planet's Force Sensitive monarchy, Force _bonded._ And in order to take the throne, one needed to be an _adult._

To complicate matters further, Obi-Wan would be required to maintain the marriage for at least one of the planet’s years. Anything less was seen as a great offence to the Force and would negate the legitimacy of the newly formed parliament and dissolve the new treaties and trade agreements. Even if he managed to divorce his poor bride after that year, no one had been even to tell him if the Force bond itself would ever be able to be broken, even by a trained healer. 

All of which had brought Obi-Wan to this terrible low in his life, his Master furious to the point of silence, forced to marry, _bond with,_ some woman he had never met, and his dreams of ever being a Knight slowly slipping from his fingers and along with it any hope that Qui-Gon would ever see him as more than an impish Padawan. 

Obi-Wan shivered at the thought of his future loveless marriage, of having to _touch_ someone that didn’t love him, as he fidgeted with his braid, picking at the split ends. It was a bad habit he had thought he was long over, but the stress of his father's death and sudden need to be betrothed had brought out the worst in him. He hadn’t known his father, had never grown to love him as a proper son should and part of Obi-Wan felt guilty for not caring more about his premature death, except for how it was impacting his future. 

He twisted the braid again, and a brief sparkle, like ice in the sun, caught his eye. Examining it further, he decided it must have been a trick of the light in the afternoon sun. 

Obi-Wan leaned back, trying to release his anxiety into the Force. The planet’s Force signature was unique, far more responsive than he had ever encountered before. It felt like a firm embrace, welcoming as he meditated during the remainder of their journey. 

The royal palace was beautiful, a splendid mix of hand carved wood and stone, balanced at the edge of a crystal clear lake. The city itself was small, as was the population of the planet as a whole, but elegantly designed and crafted out of the same local wood. It was like something out of one of his creche master’s fairytales, all towering spires and stained glass. 

Their shuttle landed in the palace courtyard, where they were greeted by Shmi and Anakin, as well as a few of other dignitaries. Obi-Wan had already spoken with the Skywalkers via holo multiple times before their arrival, helping to finalize plans for the various state events and narrow down his betrothal options. The formal introductions were short and servants quickly led them away to their quarters to prepare for the celebrations planned for the evening. 

Obi-Wan inwardly groaned at the thought. In order to speed along the governmental change, After meeting the candidates at a ball being held in his honor that night and narrowing it down to three. Over the next three days he would be expected to court each, joining them for various meals and events, after which he was expected to pick his bride. 

The marriage date had already been set, less than a week from their arrival. He had tried to explain to Shmi and the various royal aides involved, his preferences, or at least as well as he could without outright saying the only person he was interested in was a six foot three Jedi Master with the personality of a stubborn bantha and the hair to match. 

Somehow, this had led to a grave misunderstanding and he had been handed the files of six women, who he was sure were all very lovely, but where the opposite of anything he desired in a partner. 

As they walked through the halls, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but notice when the ice around Qui-Gon melted as he interacted with the Skywalkers, who were accompanying them to their rooms. Qui-Gon spent the walk smiling easily with Shmi as they discussed the plant life of the planet and laughing at the young boy’s curiosity and incessant questioning. Obi-Wan tried to quickly push away the pang of envy that crept into his heart. He was a Jedi, and such jealousy was beneath him, easily released into the Force. 

Obi-Wan was pulled from his thoughts by a sharp tug to his braid, forcing him to lean down toward Anakin, who was twisting the braid to examine the beads threaded throughout. 

“Why do you have rocks in your hair? Were you raised by rock trolls?” Anakin asked.

“No!” Obi-Wan snapped, pulling the strand back and protectively tucking it back behind his ear, hopefully removing the temptation for Anakin to pull it again. “They’re beads.”

Anakin nodded, “Yeah, but made from rocks. Only rock trolls do that.”

Obi-Wan sighed, trying to regain his composure. “They’re crafted from crystal actually. They represent important events in a Padawan’s life.”

Anakin scrunched his nose, “If you say so.” Obi-Wan was pretty sure he heard a mumbled _“still a troll thing_ ” as Anakin scrambled to catch up with Qui-Gon to ask more questions. 

The rest of the walk was awkward for Obi-Wan, who fell behind the rest of the group and wasn’t sure how to respond to the palace servants bowing everytime he walked by. 

At Obi-Wan’s request, they had been placed in adjoining rooms, if you could call the massive space such. It was by far one of the most luxurious quarters he had ever stayed in, more a wing of the castle then a suite of rooms. They each had their own sleeping rooms and refreshers, the only shared area a massive lounge and dining space. 

Shmi and Anakin left them to unpack and prepare for the ball that evening. Left alone with Qui-Gon, his Master’s slow burning anger trickled across their training bond. Obi-Wan felt the increasingly familiar shame and regret creep across his face. 

“Master, I—” Obi-Wan started, unsure of what to say, just that the heavy silence was too much to leave unfilled. 

“I will be meditating in my room, Padawan, until the ball this evening. I suggest you do the same. You have an important decision ahead of you.” Qui-Gon’s door clicked closed behind him, his mental shields sliding into place, closing Obi-Wan out. 

Alone, Obi-Wan sighed and finally allowed his own feelings to crash through him. He knew Qui-Gon was right, that meditation would do him good and allow him to release much of what he felt into the Force and bring serenity. He still hesitated, unreasonable fear filling his heart at the thought of letting go. He shook his head, making up his mind to at least try. 

In his own room, Obi-Wan was surprised to find a small meditation space set aside in an alcove of the room. Kneeling on the soft mat, he wondered just who had occupied the rooms prior and what had inspired such foresight. From his review of the planet's history, he knew that many of the rulers had been considered powerful Force sensitives, the rumors even claiming that the planet’s own Force signature responded to their very will. The room could have been designed for one such ruler. 

Obi-Wan pushed such thoughts from his mind. Even the most powerful of trained Jedi would be unable to accomplish such a feat. He relaxed into his pose, reciting the Code, seeking comfort and peace in its familiarity. Soon enough he was able to slip deeper into the Force, but instead of the peace he desired, Obi-Wan was confronted with a vortex of emotion and confusion, bleak and consuming. 

He recognized them as his own, grief for what he was losing, worry for the future, anger and resentment towards the people that had sealed his fate. Even as he tried to let these thoughts go, more and more clang to him. The Force that had been so peaceful on the shuttle was suddenly stifling, the embrace now trying to drag him under into an icy river of anxiety and hurt that sat cold and leaden in his chest.

An hour later, a knock at the door pulled him from his internal storm. Obi-Wan was stiff, chilled to his bones and as he stretched his mind still cloudy. Standing, he looked to the glass windows, glazed over with delicate sheets of ice despite the warmth of the evening sun. He wondered at the planet’s weather systems and how it was possible for such frost to spontaneously form. 

Qui-Gon was in the shared room, quietly preparing a pot of tea while Obi-Wan opened the door to a servant, whose arms were piled high with his clothing for the ball. The master seemed calmer than he had earlier, and Obi-Wan noticed that while his shields were still in place, he had allowed a thread of comfort to fill their training bond. Obi-Wan tried to relax into the warmth of it while he followed the servant back into his rooms to change. 

Obi-Wan was expected to dress in the traditional military clothes of the planet. While they had gotten his measurements for the stiff white shirt and black pants, he had been asked to wear his father's jacket to honor the royal family. As he slipped it on, the metals and accolades clinked, their considerable weight settling against his chest. 

Obi-Wan sighed under the emotional and physical burden, staring at himself in the mirror. The jacket made him look older, sterner, fitting awkwardly across his narrower shoulders and broader hips. Luckily, the square cut of the suit hid the imperfections well and no one but him would ever notice the difference. 

He rejoined Qui-Gon in the main living quarters, the spicy sweet smell of tea had filled the room. 

“Well, now, don’t you look regal, Padawan.” Qui-Gon’s voice was light, teasing. 

“I sure don’t feel it.” Obi-Wan twisted and turned in the suit. “It doesn’t fit right.”

Qui-Gon sipped his tea, his expression unreadable as he watched Obi-Wan. The room was stifling hot, and Obi-Wan began to sweat in the heavy jacket. 

“Does it feel a bit warm to you?” Obi-Wan asked, trying not to pull on the jacket’s high collar as he glared enviously at Qui-Gon’s loose robes.

“No. In fact, I was going to comment on the chill.” Qui-Gon drank again. “Your fidgeting and wool coat are not helping. Why don’t you come join me? We have a few minutes before the ball yet.”

Obi-Wan accepted the offered small cup, breathing deeply before he sat next to Qui-Gon on the sofa. Taking a small sip, Obi-Wan calmed, letting himself be surrounded by the tea's familiar smell and solid, grounding presence that Qui-Gon.

“Did you find your meditation helpful, Obi-Wan?” 

Obi-Wan shook his head, “Not as much as I would have liked, Master. The Force here…” Obi-Wan couldn’t find the words to describe how it made him feel, chilling him to the bone in the intensity of its embrace, “It’s almost stifling in its intensity. Like it wants to swallow me whole.”

Qui-Gon’s eyebrows furrowed, “It seems we are at odds tonight, Padawan. I couldn’t connect to the Living Force no matter how I tried. Maybe there is some truth to the rumors of Arendelle’s Force presence after all.”

Obi-Wan spun the cup in his hands, dwelling on the fairytales he had read. They had to be simply that, tales to entertain children and strengthen a king's power over his people.

Yet another knock shook them from the moment, “It is time, Your Majesty.”

Leaving his cup on the table beside Qui-Gon’s, Obi-Wan stood to face his future. 

The ball turned out to be even worse than Obi-Wan had expected. Over the course of the evening, he had met all but one of his potential brides. The experiences had ranged from the downright boring to the outrageous. One of the women had gone so far as to try and finish every one of his sentences for him, evidently trying to prove their compatibility. He shuddered at the memory and the awkwardness that had followed. 

They had spent the rest of the dance while Obi-Wan nodded in agreement while she rambled. Obi-Wan had to excuse himself for a drink before she could ask for a second. He stood in as much of a corner as his position afforded, watching the rest of the guests as he nursed his drink. If he had been honest with himself, it was one guest who he watched in particular. 

Qui-Gon spent the evening with Shmi, their arms linked as they laughed and sipped drinks of their own, walking elegantly around the edge of the dancefloor as they greeted various royals and future parliament candidates. Anakin had long retired for the evening and Obi-Wan’s heart ached at the gentle smiles and knowing glances they shared. They were stunning together, Shmi the epitome of quiet grace that Qui-Gon deserved.

A young woman approached Qui-Gon, beautiful and dignified. Qui-Gon laughed and nodded, pointing her in Obi-Wan’s direction. The woman caught Obi-Wan’s eye, smiling as she nodded in thanks to Qui-Gon. 

As she neared, Obi-Wan recognized her as Duchess Satine Kryze, the last potential bride. She was striking in her own way, elegant and fair. If there had been room in his heart for anyone but Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan would have been instantly smitten by her.

“Duchess Satine. It is a pleasure to meet you.” He set his drink aside to take her hand, kissing her knuckles in greeting as the planet’s customs directed. 

She curtsied, “Your Majesty. How have you been finding Arendelle?” 

Obi-Wan politely smiled, it was a question he had been asked many times that evening and the scripted line fell easily from his lips. “It’s a beautiful planet, bright within the Force and the people are most welcoming.” 

Satine laughed, “How polite of you to say so. I’m sure that answer made all the women swoon.” She leaned closer, “Now, how have you really been finding our little planet? 

Obi-Wan was taken back, unsure of how to respond. A new song began, indicating the start of a new set of dancing. 

“Would you like to dance?” Obi-Wan asked instead, intrigued by her question, even as he worried another dance would mean just another round of small talk and possibly more sore toes, no matter her question. The Duchess simply held out a hand in answer, leading him to the floor. 

Three dances later, Obi-Wan was surprised by how much he was enjoying himself. Satine was quick witted, knowledgeable in the Republic’s politics and much of the senate’s doings. She was ambitious, hoping to join the new parliament and bring change and growth to Arendelle. 

“So, Obi-Wan, tell me, is the Force signature of Arendelle as different as we claim? I am not Sensitive myself, but they say the royal family is directly tied to the Force here.”

Obi-Wan shivered as the Force swirled through him unbidden. “It is definitely different. I haven’t been here long enough to see just how much so.”

She hummed in response and the music came to an end with a flourish. Satine excused herself to visit with her sister and Obi-Wan found himself alone once more. His previous corner had been taken by a young couple, one of his potential brides he noted with a small laugh, and so he found an empty table, hoping for a moment of solitude to ponder over the women he had met. For as much as he had enjoyed Satines company, he still found himself longing for Qui-Gon’s company instead, even if it was just that of a Master and Padawan.

Satine was by far the most interesting of his potential wives, and would be mutually benefited by the match. It would give her the opportunity to join the parliament candidates as an adult and he had the feeling she cared more for her people and the parliament then she ever would about him, which suited him just fine. 

Obi-Wan easily ruled out many of the others, most of them would find it difficult to be with him or were blatantly interested in others. By the time he had made up his mind on the other two potential brides he would court, the dancing and festivities had all but ended. 

Obi-Wan looked up from his pondering and was surprised to find Qui-Gon by his side. He had thought the Master had retired for the evening long before, losing track of him while dancing with the Duchess earlier in the evening. Obi-Wan smiled, comforted that he hadn’t been as alone as he thought. 

“How has your evening been, Master?” Obi-Wan asked, standing to greet Qui-Gon.

“Far less eventful than yours.” Qui-Gon smiled and the small gesture made Obi-Wan’s heart skip a beat. “The Duchess seemed quite taken with you.”

Obi-Wan instantly deflated. He knew that Qui-Gon had meant the comment as support, but he couldn’t help the devastation that was once more entering his heart. Before Obi-Wan could respond, Shmi appeared at Qui-Gon’s side, touching his arm in an overly familiar gesture. Qui-Gon’s smile faded, replaced by a look Obi-Wan couldn’t quite place, filled with understanding and tenderness. 

“Padawan, I must attend to some other matters before retiring. Why don’t you retire to our rooms for the evening and we can meditate together in the morning?” 

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan choked out as he bowed, unable to look away from Shmi, who stood waiting for Qui-Gon. 

Obi-Wan rushed from the mostly empty room as quickly as his dignity would allow, fleeing to their quarters. He ripped off the stifling jacket, letting it clatter to the floor as his heart raced and he toed off the painful shoes. Examining the room, his eyes caught on the low table, to where their empty cups were still sitting next to each other. 

Overtaken by the renewed flood of pain and grief in his heart, Obi-Wan crumbled onto the couch next to the cups. His eyes stung as he cradled Qui-Gon’s in his palm, imagining the warmth of his Master’s hands, what it would be like to have Qui-Gon look at him with the fondness he had seen in Qui-Gon’s eyes when he looked at Shmi.

His tears began to fall, and as his heart ached and burned the room grew colder, his breath almost visible in the air. Obi-Wan hardly noticed, overwhelmed by the assault of longing and self-loathing that washed over him with every shuddering sob. 

Exhaustion finally overcoming him, Obi-Wan curled into himself and slipped into a fitful sleep, his dreams dark and cold. 

There was a brief moment, when his world brightened and filled with spring, when Obi-Wan could almost feel strong arms cradling him and a gentle touch of lips against his brow. But the warmth quickly fled, and his dreams were once again filled with snow. When he reluctantly arose from his bed in the morning, cold sunlight filtering in through his bedroom windows, it was as if it had never existed at all. 

The following three days passed quickly in a flurry of wedding preparations and awkward dates. The strolls through the gardens and formal meals would have been uncomfortable on their own, but having Qui-Gon glare and brood silently wasn’t helping anything. Obi-Wan couldn’t understand what was driving his Master to attend, it wasn’t required in the planet’s customs and seemed to only irritate him.

What made it even stranger was Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan to spend more and more time with Satine, encouraging him to ask her multiple meals and even suggesting that he attend meetings with her. The more time Obi-Wan spent with her, the more Qui-Gon seemed to pull away from him, even as the Master stayed physically by his side. 

This perplexing pattern went on until Obi-Wan’s last dinner with Satine. Qui-Gon had left their rooms early in the afternoon, dragging Anakin away for a day exploring the forest that surrounded the city. The two had become close over the four days they had been on Arendelle, often spending the time outside of Obi-Wan’s dates together. 

It was very un-Jedi like to admit just how jealous and confused their outings made Obi-Wan, but when left alone in their rooms, it was hard for Obi-Wan to not dwell on the strangeness of Qui-Gon’s behavior. It was as if Qui-Gon couldn’t make up his mind, unwilling to let Obi-Wan attend his dates alone while not wanting to spend any unnecessary time with Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan wished that Siri or Bant were there with him. He had asked if at least one of them could accompany them to Arendelle, but the request had been denied to avoid interrupting their own training. Obi-Wan checked the chrono before rising from his bed, trying to shake off the gloom that seemed to be seeping into his very bones, to make his way to one of the castle’s long distance communication stations. 

Some of the tension in his shoulders melted when Siri’s holo blinked into existence, her smile infectious. 

“Obi-Wan! It’s good to see you.” She stopped, “Wait, should I bow?” 

Obi-Wan snorted, used to the teasing, “Of course you should bow!”

She laughed, giving him an overly dramatic curtsy. “So, how goes the wedding planning? Find anyone tall enough to replace Qui-Gon yet?”

Obi-Wan groaned, “That’s actually why I’m calling. I want to know what you think.” Obi-Wan launched into telling her everything that had happened since they arrived, from Qui-Gon’s strange behavior and blossoming relationship with Shmi to the dates and potential brides.

“Well I think the answer is pretty obvious, Obi-Wan?”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan was skeptical of her tone, “And what would that be?”

“Tell Qui-Gon the truth and just marry him. I am sure he would be thrilled and you could come home. It’s far better than marrying some woman you just met.”

“You know he doesn’t feel the same way, Siri. He’s made it plenty clear and how could he, after how much I have lied to him. I will never be anything more than his disobedient Padawan, another failure apprentice. I would be surprised if I am even allowed to come back to the Temple when this is all said and done.”

Siri frowned, “Obi-Wan, look to the Force. You know that none of that is true. You are a brilliant Jedi, strong and bright. He would be a fool to let you go.”

“He has made it pretty obvious which path he wants me to take. He keeps pushing me towards Satine.” 

“If that's the case, why are you hesitating? It sounds to me like you have already decided on this Duchess, and while it would be a loveless marriage, it would at least be beneficial to you both. If you are so sure of Qui-Gon’s feelings, why not make the most logical choice and move on with your life.” 

“You’re right. It is foolish to hesitate.” Obi-Wan whispered, his heart aching. Steeling himself, he shook his head. “Thank you, Siri. What would I ever do without you?” A small particle of dust caught in his nose, causing Obi-Wan to sneeze. Another few dozen flakes of shimmering snow floated from the ceiling. 

“Is that _snow_?” Siri asked, just as confused as Obi-Wan. 

“I think so? Apparently the planet and castle have some kind of weird weather. I woke up yesterday to a flurry _in my bedroom_. It practically coated my blanket.” In truth Obi-Wan was becoming increasingly frustrated with the snow and cold. It filled even his dreams and he was starting to wonder if he would ever feel warm again. 

“Weird. I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Obi-Wan agreed and their conversation moved on as they discussed Siri’s recent missions and education. 

Far too soon, with a promise to call again before the wedding, Obi-Wan ended the holo and headed back to his room. Qui-Gon’s door was closed, but Obi-Wan could see the light underneath, telling him the Master must have returned while he met with Siri. 

Glancing at the chrono, he sighed and changed back into his father’s suit. He only had an hour before he was expected to announce his future wife to the people of Arendelle and he knew it would be better to ask Satine to marry him as a politically advantageous arrangement than it would be to surprise her with it. 

“Have you made your decision, Padawan?” Qui-Gon had slipped out of his room while Obi-Wan hesitated by the door. 

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan bowed his head, willing his tears not to fall. The doorway seemed to grow darker, more frigid. 

Qui-Gon’s smile was soft, but his eyes were sad as he touched Obi-Wan’s arm. “Satine will be a good wife, Obi-Wan. She is intelligent and kind, and I couldn’t imagine anyone more dedicated to their people.”

“I think so too, Master.” 

“Come, Padawan, we shall go together.”

Knocking on Satine’s door, Obi-Wan’s heart sank further as he watched Qui-Gon beside him. He knew he would never feel the way about her that he did about Qui-Gon, but he told himself it would be tolerable, and possibly someday it could even become something akin to love. But it was hard to be optimistic when his entire world was slowly disintegrating around him. 

As he dwelled upon what could have been, asking for Satine’s hand was a blur. She easily agreed, and together they made their way to the throne room where Obi-Wan would be expected to listen while the royal herald made the official announcement, which would be broadcast to the people later that evening. 

Satine’s sister met them after the announcement ended, leading her away for a quiet family moment. Obi-Wan had been invited, but he declined, wanting to retire early. Obi-Wan ached, both from the eternal cold and growing heavy ache in his chest. It felt as if a shard of ice had wedged its way into his very heart. 

Their walk back to their rooms was quiet, Qui-Gon seemingly lost in thoughts of his own.

“Obi-Wan, would you like to share a cup of tea before we retire?” 

“That would be welcome, Master.” Obi-Wan smiled.

They once more sat side by side, discussing the Force and the planet's strange reaction to them both before moving onto missions and antics of their past. It was late into the evening when Qui-Gon stretched, and yawned.

“Perhaps it is time to rest, Master.” Obi-Wan chuckled.

“I think you are right. Obi-Wan—” Qui-Gon looked into Obi-Wan’s eyes, his words dying on his tongue as he shook his head. “I will see you in the morning for our meditation, Obi-Wan. Rest well.”

Obi-Wan’s dreams are once more filled with snow as he wanders alone through the dark, seeking the light that once burned bright in his chest, only a dim thread to guide him. As the night wears on, the thread grows dimmer and more distant, until by morning’s light it had all but vanished. 

Obi-Wan was ruminating on his dreams, his knee against Qui-Gon’s as they meditated side by side, when there was a knock at the door and one of the butlers made his way inside. 

“Prince Obi-Wan, your coronation clothes have been finished by the royal tailor. Please accompany me for the final fitting.”

Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon, “Master, would you please come with me. I...I have no one else.” The words stung at Obi-Wan’s throat, the knowledge that it would more than likely be the last time he would be able to spend with his Master alone before the ceremony the next day. 

For a brief moment, Qui-Gon’s eyes softened with familiar gentleness as he placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Of course, Obi-Wan. The Council would like an updated report from both of us this afternoon as well.”

They made their way to the tailor’s chambers in silence, the servant leading them into a large room to wait. Obi-Wan thought of past missions, when such time would be filled with soft laughter and his Master’s rumbling voice. He had hoped that Qui-Gon would forgive him, but with every passing day, Obi-Wan was coming to understand that his betrayal was unforgivable. 

Obi-Wan tried to find the words to at least try, “Qui-Gon I—”

“Ah! Your highness! And Master Jedi!” The stout tailor clapped his hands in exclamation, “I hope you didn’t wait long.” Obi-Wan was led out of the chair to a curtained changing room, where he was pulled and twisted, spun and bent into an outfit he had never even seen. 

When the tailors were finished, they led him back into the large room and onto a stepstool. There was a sharp tug of rope and a curtain fell to the ground, leaving Obi-Wan surrounded by giant mirrors, bright in the well lit room. The tailor left, leaving him alone with his own reflection and Qui-Gon. 

Obi-Wan choked as his reflection came into focus, practically unrecognizable if not for his braid dangling loosely down his chest. The pants were light in both color and weight, looser than he was used to wearing, paired with simple black ankle boots. 

His eyes trailed up, trying to take in the cape and elaborate bodice of what could best be described as a cloak. The upper portion was form fitting, tight to his neck and shoulders, while the train fabric was delicate and seemed to shimmer and glow under the lights. Blues and greens swirled and faded, the purple and emerald symbol of Arendelle was embroidered bright on his chest. The ensemble left his midriff bare, highlighting the toned muscles of his abdomen. 

It would have been beautiful on anyone but him, meant for a regal Prince, not a washed up Padawan. 

Obi-Wan slowly turned to face Qui-Gon, terrified of what he would find in his Master’s face. Qui-Gon’s eyes went wide at the exposed skin of his stomach, and his Master grinned, almost laughing. Obi-Wan blushed and folded in on himself, ashamed by the display.

“Obi-Wan, what’s wrong?” Qui-Gon frowned as he helped him step down from the pedestal, his large hand warm against Obi-Wan’s. 

Obi-Wan was at a loss for words, unable to capture the feelings and pain he felt, “I just don’t feel like me.”

Laughter filled Qui-Gon’s eyes, “Ah, but you look radiant, my Padawan.” He frowned as he looked down and slipped Obi-Wan’s braid through his fingers, “We should leave so we won't be late to our meeting.”

The tailor rehung the elaborate robes, guaranteeing that they would be delivered to his room the following morning, and the Jedi made their way to one of the long distance communications stations.

Holos of the council members rotated across the table as Qui-Gon gave their report, glossing over some of the more tedious details of the arrangement. Yoda had been one of the original Jedi to negotiate the arrangement on Arendelle, along with Mace Windu, who had been a senior padawan at the time. 

“Thank you, Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi. I hope that the rest of the transition goes as smoothly.” Mace said, nodding. 

“Something more to discuss, you have Master Jinn?” Yoda asked. 

Qui-Gon sighed before replying, “I have also been speaking with Shmi Skywalker regarding the young Prince Anakin’s future. She has been concerned that some of the more traditional citizens of the planet will try to use him to hold a coop and revert the planet back into a puppet monarchy once he comes of age.”

Obi-Wan frowned. He had not been made aware that such a group existed. His stomach clenched as he wondered what else his Master and Shmi had been keeping from him. 

Qui-Gon continued, “The boy’s midichlorian count is higher than that of Master Yoda, and his instinctual control of the Force is unparalleled. He should be brought to the Temple, to be trained as a Jedi.” 

The icy knot of hurt and fear that had been twisting in Obi-Wan’s stomach tightened, threatened to choke him as his Master turned to Master Yoda.

“Too old to be trained in the creche, Anakin Skywalker is.” Yoda’s ears downturned, as if he too sensed the oncoming storm of Qui-Gon Jinn. 

“Then I take Anakin as my Padawan Learner.”

“A padawan you have, Master Jinn.” 

“Obi-Wan is to be wed tomorrow, and will no longer be a Padawan, nor a Jedi.”

Obi-Wan felt his world crumble beneath him, the piercing bitter cold that had set into his heart finally overtaking him as any hope of becoming a Jedi vanished. 

“Unusual situation this is, Master Jinn. Correct that Padawan Kenobi will be wed, but disqualify him from the Order, this does not.”

“Then I recommended Obi-Wan for his trials, if he still wishes to be a Jedi after his impending nuptials. I have taught him all I can and my duty as his Master is finished.”

Another glacier sharp pain shot through Obi-Wan’s chest at the words, brutally cold and heavy, like a spear of pure winter through his heart, numbing him from the inside out. He embraced it, driving the shard deeper, letting it soothe the burning ache of longing that had plagued his heart for years as he made up his mind. 

Obi-Wan was distantly aware of Master Windu speaking, “We cannot stop you from this course, Qui-Gon, but I counsel you to reconsider. Padawan Kenobi ha— ”

“Thank you, Masters.” Unable and unwilling to listen any longer, Obi-Wan cut off the Master with a stiff bow, feeling like a guest in his own body. “That will not be necessary. I will send any property of the Order and documentation required for my resignation from the Order to the Temple with Master Jinn and Padawan Skywalker when they return to Coruscant tomorrow.”

Obi-Wan promptly left the room, ignoring Mace’s sputtering as his Master’s words echoed in his ears. He walked through the palace as if in a daze, barely noticing the snow falling around him. By the time he reached his rooms, a storm raged outside the palace walls, but his heart was as still as ice. He fell into the cold bed, curled into himself as he waited for the enviable dawn. 

The morning of the wedding dawned dark and gray, and a thick blanket of snow had covered the town overnight as if by magic. 

Obi-Wan stood still next to the wedding altar as the ceremonial music began, stifling in its intensity. The coronation outfit sat heavy on his shoulders, the cloak draping around him, spread like ice on the calm lake. His physical discomfort seemed distant, pale in comparison to the ice growing in his heart. 

As Obi-Wan’s only true family, Qui-Gon had agreed to walk with Shmi down the aisle. The sorrow in Obi-Wan’s heart deepened as arm in arm, Shmi and his Master strode down the pathway, sitting beside each other in the place of honor to his right. Obi-Wan looked away, the sheer fabric of his ceremonial robes suddenly too tight, his skin too small for his body. 

They were followed by Anakin, dressed in a miniature suit of his own, carrying the wedding ring he would be expected to give Satine.

The music suddenly shifted and the audience, made up of the new parliament and members of the court, stood in anticipation of the beautiful bride, her dress shining bright in the sun.

But Obi-Wan’s eyes were never on her. He watched his master instead, the man he loved, as he whispered to Shmi and waved at Anakin. His Master avoided his gaze, with a small smile unwaveringly tight on his lips.

His bride finally reached the altar, veiled in white, but Obi-Wan only saw black. He was vaguely aware of the priest directing them through the traditional vows, weaving the Force between them, binding them in marriage. 

Satine reached out to touch Obi-Wan’s hand, to place the golden ring on his finger and complete the bond. The moment her hand rested on his, something screamed at the knifelike touch against his Force signature, too close to the bright thread that was his bond with Qui-Gon. 

Before he could realize that the scream was his own, Obi-Wan’s ring clattered to the ground, as loud as thunder in the echoing room. As the echos faded, a howling wind filled its place, bringing with it the freezing cold and ice of winter, as bitter as Obi-Wan’s own heart. 

Terrified guests began to scream, the wind turning into a driving snow, and ice began to form, driving the people of Arendelle back. 

“Obi-Wan! What are you doing?” Qui-Gon yelled accusingly as the wind began to build, spiraling in concert with Obi-Wan’s heart. 

Obi-Wan stood tall, letting the rush of power flow through him, unstoppable in its fury and hurt. 

“Obi-Wan! Stop! You’ll hurt yourself!” Qui-Gon yelled again. 

Obi-Wan’s heart twisted and shards of glittering ice spun through the air in response, their dance beautiful despite being deadly sharp. 

Obi-Wan felt his voice crack, laced with bitter pain. “What do you care, _Master,_ what happens to me? How much my heart aches? You have a new Padawan, a new future without a failed apprentice.”

“No, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon tried to shield his face against the razer like ice but thin cuts marked his face, mixing with the tears beginning to trail down his face. 

“I was scared of being left alone.” Qui-Gon reached out through the storm, trying to grab onto Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan stepped back, deeper into the ice’s hold. 

“Well that problem is solved isn’t it, Master!? Now you have Anakin, the perfect Padawan for the perfect Master Jinn.” Something deep inside Obi-Wan was surprised by his own words, but it was quickly swept away by the cold. 

Sabine and Shmi were still standing close to the vortex, screaming something at them both. Obi-Wan stumbled again as he stepped back, weighed down by the ice in his very soul. All at once he felt too much and nothing at all, the knowledge of everything he had destroyed and lost coiling through him, colder than even the storm that encompassed them. 

“ _Qui-Gon_!” Satine yelled again, her words finally piercing the storm. Obi-Wan looked up at the name, watched as his Master slowly crept forward, trying to use the Force to shield his face from the worst of the ice. But on Arendelle, the Force didn’t always listen, even to a Jedi Master, and the knifelike shards struck against Qui-Gon’s cheeks and hands. His blood froze instantly as it dripped to the ground, staining the floor.

“Padawan— _Obi-Wan_!” Qui-Gon cried out, Obi-Wan choked as worry for the man he loved so deeply bloomed in his chest at the sight, shifting the spear in his heart. Memories flooded through him, of Qui-Gon’s laughter, of quiet moments of meditation, dozens of perfect cups of tea, of everything they had shared, had been to each other. 

Just as instantaneously as it began, the storm stilled and the shards of ice hung perfectly still in the air, hanging like crystals from a string. It was as if the entire planet held its breath, waiting for Obi-Wan to decide, to choose its future. 

Suddenly, warm, familiar hands cradled Obi-Wan’s face as they wiped away the tears he hadn’t even known he had shed. Obi-Wan reluctantly looked up, expecting the disappointment and rage he knew he deserved. Instead, Qui-Gon looked relieved, happy even, before he shifted, pulling Obi-Wan closer in his embrace. 

“I am so sorry, Obi-Wan, for not having the courage to tell you how much I love you sooner.” 

Qui-Gon leaned forward, capturing Obi-Wan’s lips with his own, driving away any remaining cold and doubt in Obi-Wan’s heart. Warmth poured through Obi-Wan’s chest, flooding their bond as Qui-Gon’s shields opened, showing Obi-Wan just how deeply he meant those words.

Obi-Wan gasped as the brilliance of Qui-Gon’s love melted the shard of ice that had taken a deep hold on his heart. 

The air seemed to fill with light as the ice shards shattered, the remaining vapor shimmering in the afternoon sun.

Obi-Wan smiled against Qui-Gon’s lips as he kissed him again and again. The future was bright afterall. 

Epilogue 

Obi-Wan Kenobi was married that day, the ceremony simple and private in the filtered evening light of the palace gardens, in the comfort of his familiar Jedi robes. The golden rings sat long forgotten on the throne room floor, replaced by his freshly cut Padawan braid, held by his husband as they let the Force tie them together. As their bond flared to life, the training bond that had always been so precious to Obi-Wan grew into something entirely new, bright and warm and perfect. 

Obi-Wan felt foolish for his jealousy and for not recognizing his Master’s love sooner. Upon reflection, it was blatantly obvious in every cup of tea and every moment of quiet meditation. Everything Qui-Gon had done, had been done out of love, out of trying to help Obi-Wan find happiness. What was said with the council had been said out of grief, his own heart’s storm, sure that Obi-Wan would never see him as more than his Master, an old man to be left behind. 

Satine had laughed when he explained, fully aware that it had simply been a political arrangement for them both and was still planning on becoming a member of parliament within the year. She had wondered if Qui-Gon returned Obi-Wan’s feelings, and had made contingency plans if that had turned out to be the case. 

The rest of the transfer went smoothly, and with requirements fulfilled, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon left Arendelle the following morning, eager to return home. 

Anakin smiled by their side as he played with the small tied off section of hair that had been braided with locks of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s that would soon become his own Padawan braid. Shmi had decided to stay on Arendelle for the foreseeable future to help the transition of power, but had promised to visit the Temple soon and often. 

A year to the day later, a large package arrived from Arendelle.

“Obi-Wan, when would you like to sign these?” Qui-Gon asked in jest, a stack of divorce papers as thick as a datapad in hand. 

Obi-Wan wordlessly took the stack and grinned at his husband as he threw it in the compactor. 

Smiling in return, Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan, who melted into the embrace. It was exactly where he was meant to be.


End file.
